


Untitled Halloween DMS Crossover

by H3C70R



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types, Joe Ledger Series - Jonathan Maberry
Genre: Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9569189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H3C70R/pseuds/H3C70R
Summary: Michael Myers is sprung from prison, The Thorn Cult are trying to 'mass produce Michaels' with equal parts science and magic.  The DMS need to take down the cult, but also deal with Michael himself.  In progress, but close to finished(?) just need to write a big, showy ending that brings the plot to a satisfying end.  So in other words this is gonna be unfinished for awhile.





	

Menard Correctional Facility  
Chester, Illinois  
06:45AM  
Late October 

The sun was rising over a chilly morning at the Menard Correctional Facility. It had been a pretty normal day for C.O. Thomas Brackett. Night shift was almost over, the morning crew would be clocking in any minute, and he'd get to go home and relax. As boring as watching prisoners sleep usually is, Tom Brackett was vigilant about his work. 

His cell block, death row, held the most dangerous mass murderer known to humanity. He hadn't killed the most people, but if he ever got out, he'd surely make another go at the record. Absolutely no one knew what to do with him besides, lock him up and throw away the key. They had tried plenty, how a man survives being blown up and burned alive is anyone's guess, for Tom, he knew better. The thing under his watch wasn't a man, it was Evil. 

Every morning when Tom would make his last checks on the inmates the name always sent a shiver down his spine.

Michael Audrey Myers.

The memories that came along with the shiver were the worst part. Thomas' father had been there throughout Michael's killing spree in 1978. He didn't talk about it much, but the story dominated the 24 hour news cycle. Any and every reporter trying to make a name for themselves would sell the shock and awe of "The Babysitter Murders" every chance they got. Everyone scared until the big, bad, bogeyman was finally taken into custody.

November 2nd 1978, he was found, sitting motionless in his old house in Haddonfield. The Myers residence surrounded by multiple counties SWAT teams, no one was taking any chances, and no one fired a single bullet that day. A team walked in the house, put him in cuffs, and led him to the car. 

The only incident since then occurred when a rookie C.O. tried to take his mask off. A typical cell by cell search initiated because of illegal contraband in another inmates pod. Brackett tried to tell him to leave Michael alone, but this asshole had something to prove to somebody, and it got him killed. 

Michael dislocated both of his own shoulders pulling his arms up and over his head from behind his back, rolled them back into place, and immediately grabbed the guard's throat, crushing it into a mess of broken junk. It took seven guards with cattle prods to "coerce" Michael back into his cell.

Not even so much as the food tray has been opened since that day. If Michael was starving to death, it was taking its sweet time.

Thomas Brackett looked into the viewhole of Michael's cell. He still sat there, completely still, staring a hole in the door. His eyes flicked up to meet Brackett's. Tom held the stare for a solid thirty seconds. He used to jump, but not anymore. He knew for a fact Michael was powerless in that cell. If he could have broken out, he would have already. It had been enough years, and enough Halloween nights for him to know that.

Halloween was always the worst, the non-stop banging on the door, the bars on the window, the walls, tearing apart his cot, ripping the sink out. Though the next morning, the guards would just have to walk in, put him in cuffs, bring him to another holding cell, repair the damage, and bring him back. November 1st through October 30th he was a goddamned boy scout.

Brackett finished with the rest of his routine check, and headed back to his desk to watch the cameras. 

First shift must have been a little early, there was already a new uniformed guard sitting at the desk, sipping a mug of green tea. Tom didn't know him, but it wasn't unusual for the odd transfer here and there.

"Hey, I guess you're a new hire?"

The guard shifted his head to see who the voice belonged to.

"Yeah man, just transferred over, but don't worry, I'm up to speed about today."

Brackett had to think for a second... what was today? 

"Mischief night? No, I don't mean that, I mean-"

The new guy cut him off,

"You worked your whole shift, it's morning. Today, is Halloween."

Brackett closed his eyes in defeat, always a day behind because of his backwards ass schedule.

"Well, at least you've been briefed. It sounds like a joke, but it isn't, whatever your hear from his cell. Don't open it."

The new guy smiled, looking directly at Brackett as he did so.

"Nah, those aren't my orders. Trick or treat, motherfucker."

Before Thomas Brackett could put two and two together and get five, two small-caliber bullets dug through the front of his head into his brain, shutting off the lights for good. The guard holstered his weapon, stripped out of his C.O.'s uniform, revealing a dark blue jumpsuit, a tattoo peeked out from under his sleeve.

The rest of the man's team seemed to appear out of thin air, either tearing away guard or inmate uniforms to reveal their company colors.

More appropriately, their cult's colors.

The six men walked briskly through the cell block until they reached their target, Michael. One of them pulled out an electronic lock picking device and went to work getting the door open. None of them armed, but they were protected. Michael knew these men, and had for a long time. Even on Halloween he wouldn't hurt them.

The door unlocked and the area secured of any threats, an old white-haired man came down the hallway, pulled the heavy door open, and looked in at evil incarnate.

"Hello Michael, I'm sure you remember me, Dr. Wynne. We're here to take you home. It took so long and we finally succeeded. There is so much for you to do today."

With that, Michael, Dr. Wynne, and the team of hired guns left the prison. All the right people seeded into all the right positions and vetted long enough to not be suspicious. Second shift would come in to find a handful of dead guards, and no one else outside of a cell. The plan went just as expected.

 

Breaking News Bulletin  
Across America  
09:52AM  
Halloween

 

Every major channel flicked away from its usual programming and showed a male newsreader, not yet reporting anything, waiting for the teleprompter to catch up. After about three seconds of confusion, he began speaking,

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have breaking news out of Chester, Illinois. There has been a breakout at the Menard Correctional Facility leaving multiple Corrections Officers dead, with a few still missing. 

Three inmates seemed to have escaped. Alexander Thomas, serving seven years for armed robbery. Jason Young, serving seven years as well for aggravated assault. Lastly, most alarming as well, Michael Myers, serving a life sentence without the possibility for parole for the brutal killings on this very date in 1978. Halloween. We will have more on this story as it develops."

Televisions went back to normal. Life didn't. No one even knew he was still alive, most people had lost track of the Babysitter Murderer years ago. A strange footnote in the history of crime. Now he was back. The seemingly unkillable killer.

Before most people had time to process the information, their televisions flicked away from their normal programming again. A single man appeared onscreen. Wearing all black from head to toe, including a slightly garish overcoat and fedora. he was standing with a cameraman directly in front of him. 

The backdrop was a suburban looking house. There was no sound at first, then a pre-recorded voice message played overtop the footage, the figure in black gestured along with it, as if he were speaking the words himself.

"Evil has been let loose in your world once more. The Cult of the Thorn is going to show you its true power. This is an example. If you do not fear us now. You will. Come and watch."

The figure turned around and starting walking toward the house. As the cameraman followed the ambient audio track returned to the video. Muffled screaming came from behind the front door.

The man in black swung the door open, displaying a scene of visceral horror to the world. A woman in her mid-thirties lay dead on the floor, her throat slashed multiple times. A man stood in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen of his house, a .40 caliber Glock pistol in his hand. He was screaming as he pumped round after round into the third person in the house. Michael Myers. Wearing a fresh set of his trademark coveralls and his mask. 

Michael went down, slumping backwards and breaking a coffee table with his landing. Dead weight careening to the floor.

The man with the pistol looked at the man in black, demanding answers. Who, what, where, why, and everything in between. The man in black spoke with an affected gravel to his voice.

"Your gun is empty partner. Mine isn't."

Before the sentence ended, a chrome Smith & Wesson 9mm was swept from a hip holster, and pointed at the man.

The man inside stepped closer to the man in black, his brain not accepting the hell he'd been thrown head first into. This left the slack body on the ground behind him. The people watching this on television saw the Shape silently come back into frame, standing behind the angry man. The entire country gasped and were powerless to stop what was about to happen.

Michael jammed his knife into the man's back, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him the rest of the way on to the blade. Blood gurgled from his mouth, and his life ended.

The cameraman walked backwards out of the house, stumbling once on a step down from the porch, revealing what looked like blue slacks and combat boots in the frame before he righted the camera again. The man in black closed the door behind him, leaving Michael inside for now. The man in black took up his original place in front of the camera, and a second pre-recorded voice message played over the video.

"I think you have seen enough. You will hear from us again. Our demands will be simple and brutal. If they are not met, next time we'll show you the children as well. The entire family"

The feed cut to black for a split second before returning people to whatever had been on television prior.

 

The Warehouse  
Baltimore, MD  
10:10AM  
Halloween

 

Mr. Church stared at his computer monitor for a few seconds after the video feed ended. Processing what he saw wasn't hard, he'd seen worse if he was honest with himself, but the implications of Michael Myers being out were enormous. He was essentially a one man terrorist attack, the stock market would be screwed up, no one would leave their homes. There would be widespread panic and paranoia.

It didn't help that the video shown on televisions across America was definitely not in Illinois. He wasn't going back to Haddonfield. Not yet. Feeling torn between scrambling an assault team and tracking down this cult or waiting to see what their demands actually were, he called Dr. Hu. He answered After a single ring.

"Hey boss, I assume you watched the video I sent?"

"I did. We need to watch this situation very closely. If there is another video send it to me. Otherwise we are staying hands off."

"Loud and clear."

With that, they disconnected. Almost simultaneously, Joe walked into Church's office demanding answers No one had.

"Boss, How did this even happen without getting on our radar?"

"Captain Ledger. We don't know why it wasn't 'on our radar', It is what any of my staff who are being helpful are looking into."

Church leaned on 'helpful' a little to emphasize the point.

"Fine, I want Echo Team wheels up in five to catch this bastard. Put him in a kryptonite net, or, whatever it'll take to make him manageable, and possibly not bulletproof."

"Request denied Captain. We stay out of this until needed. Local law and the FBI are running the manhunt. In due time I want Echo Team to kick in a few doors belonging to this 'Cult of the Thorn'. But not until we're certain which doors actually need kicking."

"Sir, Everyone knows the story, killed his sister, fifteen years later he comes back to Haddonfield for his other sister. Where else would he go? Disney World?"

"I don't think he is doing the navigating. This cult is trucking him around. That video you just saw, on whichever television here you were closest to, was not taken in Illinois. It was on the wrong side of Lake Michigan. Bug wasn't able to pinpoint an exact location of the video feed, but it was coastal Wisconsin, our best guess is south of Milwaukee, close to the border with Illinois. They knew someone would try to track their movements."

Joe finished the thought for him.

"Yeah, They wanted to show us where they were to make us think exactly what you're thinking now. I will bet dollars to donuts that tomorrow night we're going to get a video of Michael Myers butchering some poor family in Haddonfield."

"No we won't. We won't hear anything involving Michael Myers for another year. I guarantee it. "

"Why? He's out, he's ready for some of the old ultraviolence, why wait?"

"Because tomorrow night isn't Halloween. This 'Cult of the Thorn' is still on our to-do list, but Michael Myers will not be relevant." 

Joe sighed and shook his head. If Church was going to elaborate any more, he would have already.

"Alright boss, I hope to God you're right."

 

45 Lampkin Lane  
Haddonfield, Illinois  
03:05AM  
November 1st

 

Red and blue lights strobed relentlessly in the pitch dark of suburbia. Every officer in town knew this address, and hated coming here. It was usually just kids playing a prank, the occasional suicide hopeful who couldn't do it themself, but wanted ol' Mikey to take a slice out of them. It was never pretty but it was always boring.

The first two responders stepped out of their squad car and up on to the porch. Given the news the previous day, they were a little jumpy, but if they saw anything, it was back out to the cruiser and wait for the backup they already requested. No one was getting shot tonight, and no one was getting stabbed tonight.

The first officer slowly opened the door into the darkened living room. There was a body in the middle of the floor, lookea young female, teenager, maybe early twenties. He called it in and continued the search, his partner checking his blind spots. They cleared the first floor and went up the stairs. Once in the second floor hallway, there was a loud crash in the kitchen downstairs.

"Hey Murph, go check that out, I'll handle the bedrooms, ain't nobody in here, probably a rat or something. Some loony dumps a body here to try to blame it on the bogeyman."

"I don't know man, after yesterday, we should clear up here and then go down together."

"Yeah, I'm sure you'd love if I went down on you, ya big fairy. Go check it out, if it's human shaped, shoot it."

The two cops split up. Murphy cursing his partner for not having an ounce of superstition in him. He'd claimed the video was a fake, even if that really was Michael Myers, he was positive the Glock had blanks in it, whether the man holding it knew that or not he was uncertain of. Murphy didn't buy it. The same as he didn't buy the original "He was probably using blanks" theory posited by the mayor in 1978. 

Murphy knew Dr. Loomis. He went to him for therapy after losing his father at an early age. Loomis would talk about Michael, a lot. Apparently most people weren't interested in the crackpot theories of an old man, with a grudge against an untreatable patient. 

He even brought him out to see Michael at Smith Grove one time. Murphy had insisted on it, throwing back in Loomis' face that Michael had been catatonic since his admittance. He posed no real danger. He just wanted to look into his eyes, to see if he could also see the evil behind them, the way Dr. Loomis described it.

They drove out to the sanitarium, and Loomis showed Murphy to Michael's room. He knocked on the glass to get Michael's attention and let Murphy meet his gaze when he turned his head. He immediately saw it. There was nothing behind Michael's eyes besides darkness, pain, death, evil. He immediately wanted to leave and apologized the entire way back for having made Dr. Loomis take the trip.

When Dr. Samuel Loomis said he shot Michael six times, Murphy believed him.

Back in the present moment, Murphy shook those memories away, unholstering his pistol and pointing it in front of him as he walked down the steps and into the kitchen. 

No one was out in the open, he didn't expect there to be, no closets, a pantry, but he opened it to find shallow shelving, nowhere to hide inside of it. The fridge was exactly that, as were the oven and stove. The only thing left was the back door. It was mostly two glass panels, extremely easy to see through, no sign of danger. Murphy kept his right hand gripped on his pistol while he reached out and turned the handle on the door.

There was nothing outside. If someone had used it, they didn't stick around for a fight. 

He holstered his weapon and turned around, walking directly into Michael Myers, who had stood only inches behind him. Before he could redraw his weapon or scream for help, Michael shot a hand up around Murphy's throat, choking and silencing him at the same time. A long bladed kitchen knife quickly found multiple ways in and out of his chest and stomach area, ruining just about all of his vital organs.

The last thing he remembered was thinking the eyes looked different. They were still cold and evil, but, possibly not in the correct way. Was Michael being compelled to do this somehow? Before that train of thought could finish, Murphy drew his last breath through a torn lung and died.

When Murphy's partner came back down the steps to check on him, all he found was Murphy's body, and the same dead girl he saw earlier, but no one else. The back door was left open, seemingly on purpose. When the officer swept the area to find any new evidence, either of his partner's murder or the dead girl in the living room, he only found one thing. A camera in the corner of the ceiling, facing the back door. 

He bagged it and brought it outside, where the officer down call had made his back-up put some pep in their step. They were just now getting out of their cars. The officer held up his hands in a sort of 'hold on' motion.

"There's just the two bodies, no one else in the house. Someone taped the whole thing, I got this off the ceiling. Let CSI deal with the crime scene, we need to get back to the station and see what all is on this camera."

 

The Warehouse  
Baltimore, MD  
06:30AM  
November 1st

 

Church had just finished watching the second brutal murder in as many days on his monitor. He was already in a conference room with Joe, Dr. Rudy Sanchez, and Dr William Hu. Joe started.

"You guaranteed that this exact thing wouldn't happen. If you'd let me bring Echo Team down there, this would've been prevented. You know that as well as I do. Boss."

If Church felt any kind of animosity towards Joe for the remark, it was unseen, in his usual steely calm, he responded,

"You are correct, this event would not have occurred. That being said, I don't think you are looking at this from the correct angle."

Joe's face betrayed a look of angry confusion, he quickly tried to hide it, but it was obvious to everyone. He let Church continue.

"Yesterday you deduced this 'Cult of the Thorn' was being purposefully obtuse by making easy intel of their general location. I believe that is true. I also believe this new video is further subterfuge. Fuel on the fire of a myth. I would bet, as you said yesterday, Captain Ledger, dollars to donuts, the man in the coveralls and the mask was not Michael Myers. Most likely a stand-in from the cult."

Joe looked less confused, but didn't enjoy the train of thought.

"How do you figure? Where is the evidence to suggest that?"

Rudy caught a whiff of an idea and decided to go with it.

"Joe, you're thinking like a cop, which is usually a good thing, but I believe what Mr. Church is implying is a lack of evidence that it IS Michael Myers. No one shot him, or even tried to hurt him in any way. He didn't display any kind extraordinary strength or regeneration. For all we know, that was some guy in a dime store costume killing a couple of cops. 

For one, it is a known fact that his grip is strong enough to crush an adult's larynx, just ruin the thing. That officer had bruising on his neck, but the actual structure of bone, tendons, sinews, et cetera, were all intact. It's a small thing, but it's the kind of detail that could matter."

Joe begrudgingly accepted the point. No one said anything for a second, not knowing where to start a new thread of inquiry. Dr. Hu finally spoke up,

"Well, we know this video wasn't broadcast on television, but it was uploaded to just about every video streaming and file sharing site on the web. This cult likes publicity. They also haven't made any demands yet. They said that would come before anyone else is killed. It doesn't make sense."

Church interjected,

"He said they would list demands before another family is killed. The video doesn't even prove that the man onscreen killed the girl. There is some ulterior motive to this murder, I believe it was still shared online to make us think it is directly related to the first video, instead of tangentially."

Joe decided to add his two cents again, hoping it went better this time.

"So what can we actually do at this point. What do we investigate? Who do I hurt?"

Church gave a smallest hint of a smile at the last comment,

"I already sent Jerry Spencer out to Haddonfield to re-do the crime scene up to our standards, I'm sure he'll find something the locals missed. Until he does, we still have no leads. I sent Jackal Team to Haddonfield as glorified bodyguards for Jerry, if there is anything new locally they'll work it, otherwise I want Alpha team and Echo team on standby if we get anything workable on the cult."

With that, the meeting adjourned, Joe went to rally the troops. He was gonna kill him someone unkillable. He couldn't wait for the challenge.

 

Smith's Grove Sanitarium  
Smith's Grove, Illinois  
6:40 AM  
November 1st

Dr. Wynne was returning to his office after the last set of rounds on the in-patient floor. He opened the door and a small asian man sat in one of the chairs facing his desk.

"Can I help you?"

The man, lifted up his right sleeve and showed Wynne the tattoo, the mark of the thorn.

"Ah, business. Please, join me in conference room."

Dr. Wynne dialed the hands on his clock to a specific time, initiating the hydraulic hiss of the secret door in his bookcase being opened.

The two men walked into the simple meeting space, an ode to oak, Wood paneling, wooden chairs, large lacquered wooden table. Simple electric candle lamps illuminated the room just enough to read small print. The only noticeable oddity was the giant rune burned into the meeting table, under the heavy glass top. Thurisaz, the thorn rune. Monster, gateway, chaos, creation. So many meanings, all of them true, if not now, then soon.

Dr. Wynne closed the door behind them, took a seat, and restarted the conversation.

"I'm sorry I didn't recognize you, and that I don't know your name, I have so many people in my employ and I meet hardly any of them. If you're here, than you've been guided by someone I trust, or you have been deceitful. Answer honestly."

The man never broke Wynne's gaze, perhaps trying to prove his fortitude.

"A man you trust, the man who wears all black, he told me where to find you."

Wynne smiled slightly at that comment. He'd never admit it, but the costumes and dress-up thing was starting be pretty enjoyable.

"Yes, good. Do you understand what it is I'll be doing to you? Fully understand, one hundred percent?"

"Yes."

"The risks?"

"Yes, even death. If I were to die for this cause, it would be worthy. If everything is successful and I become one of your soldiers... It would be perfect."

"OK. You want to be like Mike. We'll start treatment immediately."

 

The Warehouse  
Baltimore, MD  
12:05PM  
November 1st

Joe had gotten his team all riled up to go kick some ass and immediately regretted it, nothing 'actionable' since his meeting with Church and the others. Right now everyone was getting tired of sparring and combat drills in the gym. He would give his left nut and at least half the right one for a call from Church, He stood and had his team line up.

"Alright... threat levels seem to have been... exaggerated slightly. I still want everybody ready but I think we can take it down a notch."

As if on cue, Joe's phone rang, he glimpsed at the caller ID, it wasn't the big man himself, but it was close enough.

"Jerry Spencer, my very favorite crime scene investigator, what's the news?"

"Can it Joe, I got important shit to tell you, unless you'd prefer I jerk you off too?"

Jerry had a, off-color warmth, to his personality, Joe felt every bit of it.

"Sure, I'll skip the phone sex let you get to the point,"

Jerry started summarizing his report

"The guy playing dress-up in here was exactly that, blue coveralls, white mask, wrong shoe size. Unless Michael Myers feet shrank since his incarceration, he's supposed to be a size eleven. These are nines, maybe nine and a half, but not right. 

The girl wasn't killed in the house, no surprise, there would have been blood all over the rug. Also, she was shot, I'm suspecting Church is right about this being a cover-up. This girl was murdered and placed here, haphazardly at best, and an anonymous tip sends a squad car over to get their shit ruined by pseudo Mikey."

Joe did the best he could to build a case for these facts in his head.

"I don't know Jerry, this Thorn cult doesn't seem like it deals in 'haphazardly'. Could there be two groups working here? Either in conjunction or even opposition?"

"Get your head out of your ass Joe and think for a second. They just sprung Michael, they probably did some hardcore recruiting and fast. I wouldn't be surprised if they were literally handing out flyers. They haven't been able to cut the crap from the cream and I think they sent out a sub par team that barely did their job right. 

Regardless, Micheal Myers didn't step foot in this house, next on the agenda is to figure out who did. All we got is this boot print, so that leaves about a zillion possible suspects."

"Yeah, I'll start the door to door interviews on that."

Jerry hung up without responding.

 

45 Lampkin Lane  
Haddonfield, Illinois  
12:07PM  
November 1st

Jerry Spencer and Jackal team walked outside of the Myers residence, straight into an ambush. A six person team, two in dark blue coveralls, two in dark green coveralls, and the two on point in black coveralls. All of them had black balaclavas on their heads, the four in back had silenced and heavily modified AR-15 rifles. The two in front had silenced 9mm Glocks. 

Before Jerry or his assigned team could react the four riflemen dropped Jackal team with precise headshots, the two in front went after Jerry. One tackled him to the ground while the second secured a black hood on Jerry's head, and zipties around his wrists and ankles. All six men picked him up and dumped him in the back of the panel van they'd pulled up in. They got in themselves, and drove away.

Despite his immediate concerns, Jerry was thinking about the attack, something was off. He couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn't that they knew the DMS had boots on the ground here. The cult knew SOME kind of law enforcement would be here. There's a murder first, then a kidnapping. It sends the message loud and clear, "Give us what we want and it won't end the same as last time."

It was something, he was sure of it. He tried to think if he'd glanced at something, smelled something, any response his brain would have been in the middle of making before it snapped its attention to the attackers.

No, that was it. It wasn't something that was there, it was something that wasn't. Jerry became even more afraid for his life than he was before.

The rifles that killed Jackal gave off no auditory report. The only person Jerry knew who had his hands on that kind of technology was Mr. Church. Either The DMS had another mole problem, someone had once again hacked the 'unhackable' MindReader, or, worst of all, Church had made a deal with the devil.

But for what?

 

The Warehouse  
Baltimore, MD  
12:10PM  
November 1st

Joe's cell rang again, this time it was Church.

"Bossman, what you got for us?"

Church waited half a beat before answering. He knew this meant Church didn't have good news and found his salutation off-putting.

"Jackal team is KIA, Jerry Spencer is missing. Come down to the TOC with Echo team, we're reviewing and analyzing the few seconds of helmet camera footage we have of the team that did this."

Church disconnected without further comment. 

It was time to rally the troops after all.

"Echo Team! Front and Center!"

They all fell in line. Bradley 'Top' Sims, Harvey 'Bunny' Rabbit, John 'Chatterbox' Smith, and Lydia 'Warbride' Ruiz.

"Just got word from Mr. Church. Jackal team is KIA, Jerry Spencer is missing. We're to go to the TOC and review the helmet cam footage recovered from Jackal team. Then we're going to fly our asses to Haddonfield and kill some bad guys."

Joe gave the team exactly one second to process the news, 

"Now!"

 

The Warehouse  
Baltimore, MD  
12:13PM  
November 1st

Echo Team strode into the Tactical Operations Center at the Warehouse. Dr. Hu, Jerome 'Bug' Taylor, the house computer whiz, Dr. Rudy Sanchez and Mr. Church were already watching and re-watching the footage at one of the main command terminals.

Church motioned Echo Team over,

"Watch the video a few times without commenting, I want solid theories not wild supposition."

They did just that. After about ten plays of the five second clip, Bunny spoke up.

"I figure the color of the coveralls are a ranking system, which is obvious, but what do you think the difference between green and blue is? Black is obviously officers or spec-ops guys, for lack of a better term, their the ones in charge."

Bug chimed in,

"I've had MindReader cross-index the symbolism of the thorn with the colors of the jumpsuits. The only hit we got was a weird conspiracy theory from local Haddonfield newspapers, people swore they saw two different men in jumpsuits that night in '78, one in dark green, one in dark blue. Mostly attributed to inconsistent lighting in the neighborhood, large dark patches. The photographic evidence is nil."

Top continued the thought to what he figured was the natural conclusion,

"So we got nothing besides a small idea of how these Thorn guys rank their people."

Joe took a second to put the puzzle pieces together, but when they fit he audibly gasped,

"Guys, Jerry called me only a couple of minutes before this attack happened, he confirmed the guy wasn't Michael Myers, someone else from the cult. He also said he was wearing blue coveralls."

Church nodded slightly, as if giving permission, everyone looked confused. Joe continued,

"Black coveralls are the officers, I'll agree to that, Blue is higher than green. He's actually standing in for Michael. What if this goes all the way back to 1978. Michael Myers escaped Smith's Grove, killed a mechanic, stole his green coveralls-"

John Smith interrupted, of all people,

"Michael wore blue coveralls."

After the complete shock had settled, Joe continued,

"The guy they arrested wore blue coveralls. What if there really were multiple killers that night. Michael gets loose, goes to Haddonfield, it's the Thorn cult's perfect chance to get its pet monster back. They've been enhancing mental patients DNA with whatever is coursing through Michael's blood, probably since he was admitted."

Dr. Hu almost bought it, but couldn't help drive his metaphorical truck over a giant plothole.

"Then how come no attacks since 1978. If there is a veritable army of these guys, how come they haven't taken over the world yet."

Joe had no response to that, he'd thought his theory was airtight and warranted praise. He hated being defeated by that little shit. 

Luckily Church came to the rescue,

"There have been attacks."

Every eye turned to look at him.

"Haddonfield in 1988, 1989, and 1995. These were all proved to be impostors and the media was silenced. I am only now sharing this with you because I have only very recently become aware of it. You all remember our good friend Hugo Vox?"

As if Church were conducting an orchestra he'd made every face turn from befuddlement to outright terror,

"I received an encrypted e-mail, attached were Vox's personal reports to the other of the Seven Kings about how well this mythological terror campaign was going. He had inherited it from the previous King of Fear, and it was going 'gangbusters'. If the Ten Plagues initiative hadn't taken off, and ended as it did, we would have seen this a lot sooner."

Lydia having had enough unreality for one day had to ask,

"Jefe, did you just say... gangbusters?"

Church couldn't help but smirk slightly,

"Vox's words, not mine. Regardless, I have one last piece of information for you. Vox sent a picture with a name written on it in marker. Dr. Terence Wynne. He is the current administrator at the Smith's Grove Sanitarium in Illinois."

Joe shut his eyes for a second while grinning, snapped his lids back up and look right at Church.

"Well, isn't that one hell of a coincidence, want us to go have a chat?"

Church remained in his steely calm.

"Yes Captain, I do."

 

Smith's Grove Sanitarium  
12:30PM  
November 1st 

It wasn't a hot entrance, no flash bangs, no rifles, no yelling. Suits, ties, NSA credentials, and shoulder rigs. Joe wanted to do this the easy way first. Five government goons with guns will spook some of the most hardened criminals. This guy was an aging psychiatrist with some weird fucking hobbies, shouldn't be too hard.

The badges got them in all the right doors, right up to Dr. Wynne's office. With a firm knock Joe announced the team's presence.

"Federal Agents! Open up Doctor!"

Without having to repeat himself, the door opened, Dr. Wynne swung the door open and allowed them in. He sat behind his desk, Joe sat in a chair across from him, the other four members of Echo Team fanned out around room, pulling out different sensors and meters. Looking for bugs, devices, explosives, anything that could be labeled as a 'surprise'.

"Please, Agents may I inquire wh-"

Joe cut him off with a small tilt of his head and a stern pointer finger extended up. Indicating he wanted Dr. Wynne to wait. One by one Echo team confirmed they found nothing.

"Clear."

"Clear."

"Clear."

*PING*

"Boss..."

Lydia's meter had gone off, something was hinky about the grandfather clock. Joe cut a look to Dr. Wynne.

"What's behind that clock?"

Dr. Wynne gave his best grandfatherly smile,

"Oh nothing, it's probably just the m-"

he was cut off by a bullet whizzing past his head and digging into the wall behind him. He hadn't even seen Joe pull his gun, or hear the shot, damn good silencers, a lot like the ones he had his guys using no doubt.

"Don't bullshit me, I'm not having a good day."

Wynne's face became craggly with anger, but relaxed after barely a second.

"I'm not bullshitting you per se, I'm buying time, Captain Ledger. Though it turns out you ARE as crazy as they say, you had no idea how thick that wall was, you could have just killed someone."

Joe didn't shift at all,

"There is about 5 inches of reinforced steel behind that wall, the entrance is behind that grandfather clock, I don't know how expansive the additions to this hospital are, but I know they branch off from here."

Before the repartee could continue a gas grenade rolled in through a heating vent at floor level. As Echo Team scrambled to cover their mouthes and noses while trying to contain the grenade's contents, Dr. Wynne's office chair descended into the floor. The last thing Joe saw as he slumped on to the floor was a circular metal hatch re-closing as Dr. Wynne disappeared into the floor.

 

The Warehouse  
Baltimore, MD  
12:40PM  
November 1st

Bug's face popped up in a window one of Church's computer monitors marked urgent. He clicked it to the front and center screen, starting the audio feed.

"Sir, we've lost all contact with Echo Team at Smith Grove. Overhead thermals show they're alive, but being brought very deep underground, the signals are fading, but their remotely transmitted vitals indicate they're sedated, not dead."

"That's something."

Church clicked out of the window and sat silently at his desk for a few seconds before picking up his phone and dialing Gus Dietrich.

"Gus, we need a second team at Smith Grove ASAP. Pick anyone on hand you like and get suited up, you're leaving in five."  
"Hooah."

With that, they both disconnected. Gus grabbed five warm bodies and told them to gear up. They took off from the Helipad in pursuit of whoever, or whatever, had taken Joe and Echo Team.

 

In The Air  
01:00PM  
November 1st

Gus took a long look at his newly assembled team. He didn't even know their names yet, just their call signs, and he was bringing them into hell. 

He had no way to be certain things were going to go wrong at Smith's Grove, but if Echo Team couldn't handle it, it was bad.

Smith's Grove  
01:30PM  
November 1st


End file.
